The Powerful
by thegirlformerlyknownasB
Summary: In a dystopian society where power is everything, how will one Kurt Hummel survive? Will rude, yet handsome Blaine Anderson, Colonel Karofsky's right hand man, help him- or simply condemn him to the same future as all other people: death?
1. Chapter 1

**This is set after a nuclear war. Blaine and Finn participated in the war together. Blaine is older than Kurt (and Finn) by a few years and Karofsky is an adult. First fanfic, wish me luck! :)**

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><p>Finn ran through the field filled with smoke. He could not see, he could not hear, nor could he breathe. Panic flooded through his body; this hadn't been what he wanted. He did not account for the terror, death and pain he would be surrounded by when he decided to fight in the war. He had decided to fight because of patriotism, a patriotism that fled from him as soon as he began to fight. Sitting at camp was worse for him; sometimes, he'd revisit scenes from previous battles. He'd see his comrade's deaths, their bodies seeping with blood, life drained from each body, but eyes still frozen with terror.<p>

He had left his family for the war. They lived in a bomb shelter, but he couldn't have dealt with that. He always needed to be moving; he would have gone crazy only staying in that small space. Right before he left, he and his father had a brawl and thoughts of the fight haunted him every night. The world began to change around him. Every morning when he woke up, the world was a different place. Color faded first, then friendships, then emotion, and then everything was made of stone.

Finn ran away from an invisible enemy; through the entire war, he never saw the people he was fighting against. Occasionally, a nuclear bomb would be dropped nearby one of their camps. In the past, they had killed everyone within thousands of miles and made everyone within millions of miles sick. With new technology, the soldiers were able to keep themselves safe from the bombs. They wore protective suits, goggles, and air purifiers. If a man got desperate enough, he'd take off all of his protection. The toxic air would kill him instantly. It was a quick way out.

Each step sent a shock up his leg and spine, momentarily rattling his brain. If it weren't for the pain, he would not have been able to tell he was moving. He was simply following what he felt: senseless terror. Everything was black, still and silent. The calamity around him could not penetrate the barrier his brain put up to block it out. His body protected his mind through instinct; he protected himself from everything around him by blocking it out, but it put him in even more danger than he was previously in.

Smoke filled his lungs with every excruciating breath; he didn't know whether he wanted to survive the war, or die that very second. The latter sounded more appealing. He could smell burning flesh, and as he decided he wanted to live through the fight, he received a gunshot to the right side of his head. It was a fatal blow, though it had only grazed his head; he had not five minutes to live. All his senses came back to him as the pain coursed through his body. He could hear, see and feel everything, but he could not focus on one or the other. Everything blended into all the other things until Finn's brain couldn't function.

A person's thumping footsteps nearly ran him over once he lay on the ground. The person paused, aware of Finn dying. He was dying without love, without comfort, without hope.

"Finn?" Blaine asked, shocked.

"Yeah," he said with a short laugh that quickly turned into a cough. Coherent speech and thought were barely possible for him. Another gun shot came and hit him in the stomach. He screamed in agony, and then moaned as the pain spread through his body.

"You're dying."

"Yeah." He was amazed at how articulate his friend was.

"I… well…" Blaine searched for something to say. Death had never shaken him; it had never made him suffer. He had seen so many people dead, and had killed even more. Seeing how Finn still didn't become a bad person even on the verge of death stirred something inside of him. He couldn't quite figure out what was going on inside of him, but he knew it wasn't familiar.

"Blaine," Finn gasped as he tried to keep a hole on life. "You need to protect my brother." It was a random request.

"What?" he clarified.

"Blaine," Finn started again. "If you ever find my family, you need to protect them." Blood began to pool around him, picking up particles of dirt and skin. "Especially my brother." Blaine hadn't remembered he had a brother. "His name is Kurt." The color had drained from Finn's face, blood filled his mouth and lungs. He tried to wipe it off his face, but because it was so sticky, he only spread it more. "You have to." At age 18, the young man died. He would never manage to see his family again. He would never manage to tell his father how truly sorry he was. He would never get the chance to tell his brother just how much he meant to him.

The one thing he did manage, however, was to give his brother some protection for the future. Of course, it wouldn't matter that he had done that if he was dead, but if he wasn't then he saved the boy. If Blaine died then the plan was also void, but despite its weaknesses, he had ensured the safety of his brother.


	2. Chapter 2

I don't own Glee, or the characters. Just the plot and world. This story will consist of 3rd person chapters, Blaine's point of view, and Kurt's journal entries.

-Kurt's Journal-

The day I couldn't see anything but dark clouds in the sky was the day my entire life changed. My mom told me a nuclear war had begun and we had to get to the bomb shelter underground. I didn't know what a nuclear war was, nor did I know what a bomb shelter was. I was so young I didn't understand what was happening; all I knew was my family's poor little farm, for I had been sheltered there all of my short life. I had never been concerned about death or destruction, nor had I been introduced to it. Tragedy never occurred in my life, so no thoughts about it filled my mind at age 11. How naïve I was…

So now I am here in the bomb shelter. I feel as though my parents and I have been living here a thousand years, for we don't know what year it is and have no communication with the outside world. We only know of the diminishing food and water supply, and the cold hard metal of our underground bunker. Bunker isn't the correct word for this; however, it is more like a jail cell. We are trapped and cannot escape for fear of perishing. We don't have a clue what is above us. We don't have a clue as to what happened to our farm. We do not know anything but the confines of this rectangle below the earth.

The air is cold and stale down here. There are no sounds but our breathing; there is no music, no laughter. We hardly even talk to each other, for there is nothing to talk about. The only topic even realistic to be talking about is what will happen in the future, but my parents would rather not speak of that. I miss music, the sun, happiness, picking out clothes for the next day at school. There is absolutely nothing here for me, and I fear that the world outside will be the same. I fear that there will be no joy, and I fear that there is no such thing as music or fashion. I'm afraid.

I wish my brother could be with us. He refused to come down with us, for he felt it was his duty to fight for his country. How a person fights nuclear bombs and missiles, I don't know. He said hiding was a weakling's way out of doing what is right. The last memory I have of him is when he spit on my father's foot. He screamed at my father and told him he was a fool, a weak and pathetic old man. Finn told my father that he hoped he would die so he'd never have to see my dad again. He and dad shared an uncanny ability to fight over everything. Often times, the fight would become physical, but not this one. That fight was all done in words and hurt. Only one other had escalated that badly; Finn had called me a f- Anyway, that fight had hurt more than any other; it had left a permanent scar on everyone's heart.

I don't blame my brother for leaving. I blame my father for driving him there. My father tried to control everything; he still does. He tries as hard as he can to be accepting and love me for who I am, but half the time he was completely oblivious to what was happening in me and Finn's lives. He asked us if we were okay and asked if we had a good day at school, but to put things simply, he cared about the honor of our family and our reputations just as much as our feelings. One time, Finn went out with a local girl known to be a bit promiscuous, for she had gotten pregnant before marriage. As a teenager he had been allowed to "go with" anyone he wanted to, but my father was not pleased. Finn just had an amazing ability to do everything wrong in my father's eyes.

Before he left, he gave me a note and told me not to open it until I thought it was time. For weeks I sat and stared at the note in front of me. I wanted to open it, but it did not feel like the right time. When time began to run into itself, I couldn't tell when the time was, for I did not know when the time was. Minutes turned into hours, hours into days, days into weeks, weeks into months, months into years. Time melted around me, and the time finally came in time. I opened it and found that he had written about his friend Blaine. I could not understand why he would have chosen to write about him. Now I understand: it was a message to me. It was a message telling me to find Blaine. It said that he could help me find what I lost: music, joy, hope.

Finn hasn't come back to us, so I assume he's dead. Of course, I don't know for sure, but that's my logical explanation for his absence. What else could it be? I figure that if he did survive, he would have come to get me by now. He wouldn't have come for mom and dad, but he would have come back for me. At least, I hope he would. The fact is he just isn't with me. His spirit is with me, though, and I often think of him and what he would do if he was in my situation. He would climb the ladder leading to the surface of the earth to find what lay beyond our unrealistic world, ready to tackle the next linebacker (or whoever he's supposed to tackle; I just know how to kick). He would climb the infinite ladder into the unknown. He would not have been able to sit around for… however long it has been. He would go crazy in this little room. His ADD would drive him insane, at least, more so than it already had.

I often feel the need to live for him, since he is probably dead. I wish he were here. I know what he would do, and I want to do just that. I just want to force my small frame to tackle (metaphorically, of course) a huge football player and come out unscathed and victorious. The only way to do that is to leave my old world and my current world behind to face the music. Well, if the music is still there then I will face it. If it isn't, then that really sucks. I need to climb up that ladder and stop rambling in my journal. So I do.


	3. Chapter 3

**As previously mentioned, I don't own Glee or the characters, though (just as everyone else) I desperately wish I did! Thanks for reading. :) ****I actually originally wrote this piece for a final project, and it originally starred a heterosexual couple. It was also meant to be a political piece like ****1984****, but I thought it would be interesting to see if I could manipulate it into a piece about two boys.**

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><p>While his parents were asleep, Kurt snuck to the ladder across the one room bunker, careful not to wake them. He began climbing up the rungs, and with each one a sensation of anticipation nearly knocked him to the ground. Higher and higher he went, all the while wondering what secrets the surface held. What would be above his head? He could not help but imagine his family's farm: the animals, the barn, the pond, the swing set, the hay, and his room. He missed the old stereo in the kitchen playing jazz music. He had eagerly awaited her reunion with everything she held dear.<p>

When he reached the top, he hesitated. The heavy metal latch leading to the world symbolized so much for him, and if the world above did not meet his expectations, he did not know what he would do. He could not stand to think that all that he loved was gone. He tried to convince himself that it was okay, that all of his belongings would still be there. Somehow, he couldn't even manage to convince himself into believing that. All he could hear was his breathing, which began to speed up as his hands greeted the cool metal latch. The latch groaned with protest, but eventually Kurt managed to open it. No light poured in, he had been expecting light.

A large sense of dread spread through his body; he was terrified of what he could find right above his head. He pushed through it and pulled himself up out of the hole and sat stupefied. Nothing surrounded him. The only thing he could see was different hues of gray swirling around together. There were no trees, no sky, no farm, no grass, no sun. Nothing. Nothing was there. It was surreal being surrounded by nothing. There were no words he could use to describe what he saw besides nothing. There also was no sound.

"Mom, Dad!" he shouted down the hatch in earnest. There was no response. "MOM, DAD!" he screamed at the top of his lungs. Kurt then heard a scrambling noise and the sound of his name being called. His parents were terrified by what they saw. The top of the shelter was open, and Kurt was nowhere to be found. They were petrified, amazed and enraged by their son's actions.

"Mom, Dad, you have to see this!"

"Kurt, get back down here! It's dangerous up there!" they scolded.

"No, it's not. There's nothing here." He heard them climbing up the ladder. It seemed to take them forever to take the long trip up. He sat and waited for his parents to surface impatiently. Finally, he saw his father's face cautiously peer around and proceed to exit the hole. His mother followed quickly and all three were soon looking around, completely perplexed. The family had a few options: 1) go back down into the shelter, 2) stay where they were, 3) explore, or 4) do nothing. Kurt's parents were already thinking of going back into the shelter, but he would not live down there again. His brother had already influenced her once, so he used him again for his next decision.

Without knowing where he was headed, Kurt began walking. His parents said nothing and simply followed him, for they had no better plan. The thought of shelter, food and water did not enter their heads; they were too focused on the world they saw to think of anything but that world. None of them thought of what they would do if they got lost. Survival did not occur to them, so none of them were worried.

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><p>The remnants of a once remarkable city lay strewn across the gray world. Crumbled buildings, car parts and bodies littered all space. One could not take two steps within the Province without having to maneuver around something. Every building not completely decimated had gunned guards watching from the roof; each man thought to be an employee of the Powerful. Citizens had to watch out for them, for each one had the power to kill whomever they wanted whenever they wanted. Killing was a free-for-all in the Province.<p>

The Powerful had started and won the war; it held all the nuclear power the world had ever encompassed. None knew exactly who are what it was, not even its employees. However, all were terrified of the Powerful. All people knew that they had better behave, and there needn't be a reason for their death in order to be executed.

It was said that only one person held the knowledge of the Powerful: the Colonel, said to have been hired personally. He was to carry out its will and protect its secrets. Some thought he was the Powerful, some thought it was an omnipotent being, but most were too terrified to talk about it.

People constantly felt they were being watched by more than the eager trigger finger's of guards. None knew the rules of the world they lived in, but if they broke the rules then knowing them would no longer be helpful. Random disappearances became the usual, and no one dared talk about them. Alliances between family and friends no longer existed. Everyone lived in a complete state of fear.

All joy creating creating activities were banned: singing, dancing, smiling, laughing, joking. The people were prisoners in their own lives. Not free to be themselves, not free to express individuality. This was a world Kurt surely wouldn't survive without a little help.


	4. Chapter 4

-Blaine-

"No! Please no!" the scraggly man pleads at my feet. He knows death is looking him in the face, and I can't help but feel empowered by knowing that. Each kill brings me more pleasure, especially when I play games with my prey.

"Fine, you can go."

"Oh, thank you! Thank you! Praise your soul!" He begins to scramble away, but before he is even 20 feet away from me, I aim for the back of his head and shoot. He falls to the ground, motionless. Bulls-eye.

"Nice job, Blaine," Karofsky tells me with a sneer. "You're ruthless. I've trained you well" I take pride in that. As I turn around to take my next sinner, I see something that catches me off-guard: Finn's family is entering the square. I haven't seen them in years. They're observing everything around them as though they've been living underground all these years. The young boy steps over a dead body and cringes. His parents are more intrigued by the scraps of buildings remaining. They always were a pure family. Except Finn, that is. He was an extremely persuasive boy, and could convince anyone to do anything for him. He asked me to watch over his brother when he died and I can see the day I vowed to protect the boy perfectly.

"Blaine, if you ever find my family, you need to protect them. Especially my brother. His name is-" I can't remember his name. Cameron? "You have to," he grunted as blood spilled out of the hole in his head. The blood pooled around him and picked up dirt and bugs in the tall grass of what used to be a farmer's field. He died directly in front of my face, and I didn't shed a single tear. I've never been one partial to crying.

Now I look into the face of my dead comrade's brother. Samuel? Jacob? He studies my face impatiently as though he knows who I am and expects me to solve all his problems right this second. How would he know about me? I played football with Finn as a teenager, and we talked about our significant others, but never had we actually talked about something serious. How would his brother know about me, and why would he have told him about me?

"Kurt?" his name finally pops into my head. Kurt. What a weird name. Who would name their child Kurt?

"Yes," he says simply and nods. His light voice fits so perfectly with his pale complexion and light brown hair, a striking combination with his eyes. Eyes the color of nothing I have seen before. I have nothing else to say to him, and no idea what I could say to him, so I begin walking in the direction of their quarters. He follows me just as he should. I don't know what the use of taking them there is anyway, for I'll probably just end up disposing of them.

"You just expect me to follow you like a dog," he accuses me. I do not respond. "So where are we going?"

"Do you ever shut your mouth?"

"Excuse me!" he yells and runs in front of me. He clearly has a short temper.

"Move," I demand. He puts his hands on his hips and glares at me. I push the child out of my way and continue walking to where they will be housed. This time he doesn't follow me. I continue walking and call over my shoulder, "you see those dead bodies all around you?" I step over a severed head. "If you don't follow me, I'll see to it that you'll join them." He begins jogging to catch up to me, thoroughly frightened by my threat. His parents take their good old time straggling behind us. Their family is a mix of low IQs and sassiness. A combination I do not take lightly or humorously.

"You're supposed to protect me, not threaten me!" I don't respond, though I now realize that he knows exactly who I am and what I'm supposed to do. "So you're not even going to answer me?" he persists. "Excuse me! I'm talking to you!" A man bumps into me, running from Karofsky. He turns around, notices who I am and gets down on his knees.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" the man exclaims. Panic floods his face as tears well up in his eyes.

"Do you know what you have just done?" I yell angrily. The tears spill down his face as the man's life flashes before his eyes.

"Please don't kill me! I have a wife and kids! I'm sure the Powerful wouldn't want me dead…" his words trail off and he accepts death. I simply shove him aside and keep walking. He had expected me to kill him, but I'm in a generous mood; I'll get him some other time. I turn around to see Kurt with a horrified expression on his face. Why should I care if he's weak?

-Kurt's Journal-

A strong man

Barely older than I

My father must ban

Him from my eye

Though he is rough

There must be a difference inside

Than the exterior tough

And laws he must abide

Though threaten he may

No harm he means

Meaningless words he can say

But on his power he leans

Slowly rotting from inside out

His heart is turning black

I've seen this killer search about

For victims he can sack

"So," Kurt began, "What's with this 'Powerful' thing?" Blaine looked at him.

"'This Powerful thing?'" That was too casual a way of referencing to it.

"Yeah…" he said, oblivious to his disgust.

"I have to go deliver rations," he started as he stood in front of Kurt's quarters. His parents were already inside, soaking in everything around them as though it were completely normal. On the other hand, Kurt acted like he had just been thrown into a world completely unlike anything he had ever seen. That was, in fact, exactly what happened, so Blaine's thoughts were quite on track. "Bye." He began to speed away in the direction they had just come from. Kurt followed him, curious as to what he was talking about. He looked over his shoulder and turned around to address the younger boy. "That's where you'll be staying. Now, stay."

"Rations?"

"Yes," Blaine said with a groan.

"Care to explain what they are?"

"No." Kurt glared at him, but he remained unaffected. He turned around and continued to head towards the Capital of the Province. He followed him, persistent in his interest. "Fine. I have to deliver small amounts of food to the citizens." He stopped moving. Random citizens were dodging around him, trying not to give him a reason to kill. Screams and yelps filled the air.

"Why?"

"Do you always ask so many questions?" His face remained blank, for he would not give him the pleasure of seeing him offended. Blaine rolled his eyes, and realized that the younger boy was slightly taller than himself. "The men and women in this Province have no money. They do not work, for there are no jobs. We, as the ruler's closest workers, must give food to them in order to survive."

"Where do you get the food?" He asked yet another question.

"From another Province."

"Where do they get the food?"

"From another Province."

"Where do-"

"Stop asking questions," he cut Kurt off sharply. He paused. Blaine began walking again, glad for the end of her questioning.

"So what's with this 'Powerful' thing again?"

-Kurt's Journal-

The Powerful?

Who?

What?

Why do people fear this

"Powerful"?

The Powerful?

Yes, the Powerful.

Feeling something watching you.

Scared when you're alone?

Looking 'round every corner?

Do you see them watching you?

You cannot tell what they will do.

Do you hear the music?

The nonexistent music?

The silence?

The silence that represents death?

That is not music.

The Powerful?

Who?

What?

Who is this

"Powerful"?

The Powerful?

Yes, the Powerful.


	5. Chapter 5

**Well, thanks for reading :) This is a longer post than the others, because this is a long story and if I keep putting up small chapters then it will never be over. I don't own Glee, though I certainly wish I did.**

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><p>Kurt sat on his bed, or in other words, a torn blanket stuffed in the corner of a crumbling cement cube. It constituted as his new home. There was a hole blasted in the wall by his face from a grenade, and he stared out of it up into what used to be the sky. Instead of the gray the world was earlier, it was then a pure black. He could not see stars. He could not see the people responsible for the constant gun shots, though he knew the identity of one of them perfectly. That didn't mean he wanted to know what the man was doing, but he already did.<p>

The moment he had seen that person his theories of his brother's death were confirmed. The young, yet extraordinarily tall, man he shared no family resemblances with was dead. He didn't know how exactly Finn died, but he knew it must've been by his own terms. The boy was too stubborn to simply let a person kill him. He wouldn't have gone down without a fight unless he was seriously depressed. Kurt's thoughts slowed and his brain became foggy. After a while, his eyes began to droop, so he lay down on the disgustingly dirty blanket in the corner and dreamt.

_I flip over in my bed and pull the comforter over my head. Light is pouring in from the window, and I hadn't gotten enough sleep. Blaine had been snoring all night and I had had the weirdest dream. I pull the comforter back down, for I couldn't breathe under it. It had been a stupid idea anyhow. I pull the curtains in to cover the window, but the sun goes through anyway. I guess my idea to have lace curtains wasn't as great as I thought it was. I groan as a headache begins to form at the front of my skull._

"_What's wrong, honey?" Blaine asks me. His curly brown hair is all tussled from an uncomfortable sleep. His breath hits my face and as much as I love the man, I wanted to shove him away. His breath was terrible._

"_I had the strangest dream last night," I say as my stomach swirls and makes me feel uneasy. The nausea was not caused simply because of his smell, but also because of the feeling the dream left me with. _

"_It's okay, darling," he says as he pulls me to him and kisses me on the forehead. He makes me feel a little better but I still feel unsettled. "What was it about?" He puts his arms around me._

"_I was a teenager, and there was a nuclear war, and you were a killer and all this other crazy stuff happened and I don't know and I need to shut up and stop freaking out right this second." I pause and take a second to breathe. My eyebrows are furrowed, and I probably don't have the greatest breath either. "It's… hard to explain."_

"_Are you okay now?" He asks me earnestly. He is so sweet and caring. He scratches his sideburns and then places the same hands on my cheeks. "Honey?"_

"_I will be after I take an aspirin," I try to joke. He doesn't laugh. I study his face: the rough stubble on his chin, the deep brown eyes, his full lips, slightly off-center nose, the contours of his cheekbones and jaw. He begins to fiddle with the wedding ring on my left hand. A happy feeling spreads through my body, but no memories from the wedding pop into my head. He seems as though he remembers it well, though._

"_I'm just trying to make sure my lovely spouse is comfortable and happy." Spouse. We've been married a year and I still can't get used to that word._

"Wait, spouse?"

Kurt woke up, soaked in sweat and freezing. The previous day had been unbearably hot, but the current day was ridiculously cold. Anxious and unnerved by his dream, Kurt stood up and began to walk out of his quarters. He needed to take a walk to clear his mind. When he opened the pathetic excuse for a door, a thin plank of wood, he came face to face with Blaine. They both took a sharp intake of breath and tried not to think of how close their proximity was.

"Oh, uh- I," Blaine stuttered as he took a step back. Surprised by his sudden vulnerability, Kurt bit his lip and mumbled incoherently. They each took a quick glance at the other, and the moment passed.

"What are you doing here?" Kurt snapped.

"I was coming to make sure you weren't murdered during the night. What were you planning on doing once you left your quarters?" he asked defensively.

"I was going to take a walk in order to clear my thoughts," he said harshly and began to stomp off in a random direction. "And I'm doing just that." The feelings he had towards Blaine from the previous day returned. He was already upset with the man, though he had not yet done a thing.

"Well, I should probably go with you," Blaine stated simply. The young boy turned around quickly and raised an eyebrow in question. "So I can protect you, stupid." He caught his mistake and insulted the younger. Blaine did not know quite why he hadn't killed the other yet, but he assumed he found him entertaining. He might as well keep entertainment around.

"I don't need protecting," the sassy kid barked and continued stomping away in fury. Blaine muttered an expletive and slowly began to follow him. As he went, Kurt had to step over body after body. Each one made him sicker and angrier than he had previously been. He could not believe how terrible the world was.

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><p>-Kurt's Journal-<p>

Men crawling through excrement

The picture of

Desperation

Men in uniform

**Laughing**

At the rags the others are forced to wear

One group

Dominates

While the other simply tries to

Survive

They are the

HAVES

And

HAVE-NOTS

There have always been

HAVES

And

HAVE-NOTS

**But will there always be?**

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><p>-Blaine-<p>

That stupid, stupid promise. I can't believe I promised Finn I would take care of his ridiculously dramatic, rude and stupid brother. I slowly follow him, careful to stay out of sight. I wish I could just kill him and dump his body somewhere nobody will find him. He is a whiny, crying baby and I cannot stand to see him. I don't understand why his brother would want me to help such a wretched creature. Emotionally unstable, naïve, unworldly, he is. He needs to grow up and grow a pair.

It's amazing how easily I agreed to help him. Was it because he was dying? Or did I actually care about Finn? What made me say yes? We weren't even very close. Sure, we played together before the war, but we didn't know each other; we simply spoke of conquests and played football. But Finn didn't even realize that I was gay, even after talking about sex.

Football. That's a word I haven't heard in a long time. I remember romping, perspiration on my face from the heat, the burning sun and the pad of grass beneath my feet. Oh, the days without worry. Oh, the days without discipline; those horrible days when no one was under control and no punishment was executed. Kurt suddenly coughs violently.

"Are you okay?" I ask involuntarily.

"I'm fine!" he barks, his lyrical voice still raspy. He continues heading to wherever he's trying to go, but his previously bouncy steps have now become heavy, as though he is pulling a great weight.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Kurt turns around and spits violently onto the ground.

"What do you care? I heard you talking about me."

"Wh-" I begin, but quickly silence myself. I had been speaking my thoughts out loud. He stomps on, but I can barely focus. I have always been precise and calculated. How did I speak if all I was doing was thinking? What exactly had I said?

"Kurt?" I ask with an attempt to be gentle.

"What?" he demands with the force of an army of men. I know how to deal with armies; I'm trained to deal with armies, it's what I do.

"Where are you going?"

"Home." He starts to stomp off again.

"Kurt?"

"What!" he screams, clearly over-reacting.

"Your quarters are that way." I point in the opposite direction. He huffs and storms off again, ridiculously angry at being proven wrong.

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><p>Kurt walked slowly into his quarters. He was weak from emotional strain and stomping all the way back. His parents weren't in the room. He had absolutely no clue what to do, so he opened up the journal he brought from the shelter and began to write. He wrote all the way into the night, without realizing it. His parents had come in and it had become night, yet that did not register in his mind.<p>

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><p>-Kurt's Journal-<p>

slowly strolling down the path

flowers growing brightly

i see that you can do the math

that's where i want to be

i want the sun to shine on my face

gently welcoming fun

with my loving basket-case

and my future loving son

i wish i have a family

a group of people who love

i only hope my parents can see

that's what i want a lot of

the future used to be bright

i could have had just that

but now i am filled with fright

my dreams are covered by a mat

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><p>-Blaine-<p>

He decided he wanted to get to know me better. He told me to meet him at his quarters when I had the time. I knew he certainly wasn't going to discover anything about me, for I don't know anything about me. Even if I did, I wouldn't tell him.

"Hey!" he says casually when I reach his quarters.

"Greetings," I say. He giggles at the formality of my reply.

"You just sounded really silly!" I do not know what inspired such a mood change in him, but I almost like the upset Kurt better than the happy one. I try to avoid looking into his sparkling eyes; since when do eye sparkle?

"So…" I begin cautiously. Happy is not an emotion I can ever recall seeing. "What is going on here?"

"We're going to take a walk. I've found a cool place I want to show you."

"What place?" I know every inch of this Province, so I've probably been to the "cool place" multiple times.

"Come on!" He grabs my hand and pulls me away. My immediate impulse is to flip him over my shoulder and hold him down with my foot, but I stifle the urge and allow him to lead me. Eventually he slows his pace and releases my hand, leaving me feeling almost empty. We walk for a while in silence. We have left the Capital and are now in the outskirts. There is barely anything out here, but sometimes there are terrible storms. The gray matter flies into the air, almost creating a kind of smoke. It chokes anyone in its path and the force of it destroys buildings.

Suddenly, he crumples to the ground and rolls into fetal position. I run toward him.

"Are you okay?" I ask as I touch his shoulder. He knocks my hand off and moves a few feet away from me as though I injected him with some sort of disease.

"I'm fine." Kurt leans his head on his knees to cover up the tears dripping out of his eyes.

"Alright. Whatever." He flinches at the harsh tone of my voice. Now could be my chance to leave him. I could get my wish; he could get lost, or die from dehydration. I stand up and begin walking away.

"Don't go…" he squeaks. I assume he heard me trying to escape, and I am still so tempted to continue leaving. I turn around to look at the pathetic child weeping on the ground. And when he looks me in the eye, I see an emotion I can't comprehend. It is almost as though I see his will to live shatter. The pieces pierce his skin and force blood to drip down his petite body, metaphorically. I walk over to him and squat.

"Why shouldn't I leave?"

"Because!" he whines. It's disgusting. I stand up to leave again and can't believe he fooled me into feeling sympathy for him. He grabs my ankle in a childish gesture. "If you didn't want to be here with me, you wouldn't have followed me here. So sit down." I grunt and sit next to him. I want to grin at his persistence, but I show no hint of amusement on my face.

"Okay, little boy, whatever you want."

"Before the war, you were only five years older than me. That really isn't all that impressive. It also isn't very much older than I." What a naïve kid.

"You don't even know how different five years makes a person." He moves closer to me and my entire body stiffens.

"I lived underground for however long the war was. Believe me, I know," he sighs. "I just wish that never happened. I want to go back to my farm and play with my dog and brother. I want to swim in the pond and get bitten by turtles. I want to chase my cats around the yard and watch the pig roll around in mud. I want to sing as loud as I physically can and dance until my feet hurt. I want to feel joy and happiness and I want to love." He finally pauses. "I'm sorry." He leans over and rests his head on my shoulder. I try to knock it off, but being a stubborn boy, he allows no such thing. "I miss my home."

* * *

><p>-Kurt's Journal-<p>

Home is a place with no definition

It has no constant rhythm or rhyme

Home is where you want it to be

It's not always a concrete building

Hope could be home

When your life is in ruins

When you have nothing

You can hold on to your home of hope

Love could be home

The tender kiss of a lover

A hug from your mom

Memories remain of a home of love

Your mind can be home

Always safe and comfortable

No one can see you there

Hiding from the world in a home of thought

Home is a place with no definition

It has no constant rhyme or rhythm

Whether a hug, a kiss, an emotion or a building,

Home is what you make it


	6. Chapter 6

**Just incase anyone actually wants to finish reading this, I'll post the rest of it slowly.**

* * *

><p>-Blaine-<p>

"You don't know how young that makes you seem," I think out loud. He sits up and glares at me.

"Missing my home makes me young? Well, in that case, I'm an infant."

"You practically are," I sneer.

"I'm really not all that young!" Kurt complains.

"Then why did your brother ask me to watch out for you?" He stops glaring at me and sits back calmly.

"Why do you have to make me feel so little and insignificant? Do you enjoy making me feel smaller and lower than I already am?" The words sound harsh, but the way they're delivered is full of self-pity rather than anger. Neither of us speak. The silence is heavy with accusation. I wait for him to say something, just as he waits for me to do the same. It is unclear who will speak, so as soon as I am about to bid him ado, he asks me a question. "Do you enjoy killing?"

I freeze, unable to answer the question. What brought his thoughts to that question, I don't know. I do know, however, that I do not know the answer to the question. He looks at me expectantly.

"I don't have an answer for that."

"Why don't you have an answer for that?" His nosiness never ends.

"I just don't, okay?" I growl.

* * *

><p>-Kurt's journal-<p>

Why?

Why is?

Why is the?

Why is the world?

Why is the world like?

Why is the world like it?

Why is the world like it is?

Why does destruction and hatred fuel human emotions?

Why does humanity feel the need for war?

Why can't there be

P E A C E

?

Is there a place where love rules?

Is there really a _heaven_?

Is there really a God watching over us?

If so, how could he let humans be _overrun_by

**Jealousy destruction**

** Hatred**

**Materialism sex**

** Power**

** Want pleasure**

Why is the world like it is?

Why can't love prevail over hate?

* * *

><p>-Blaine-<p>

We never got to where Kurt was trying to take me. He has already found me today and apologized. He asked if I wanted to see "the place", so I agreed and we are now on our way. He interests me, I find him intriguing and in an unexpected way, appealing. This time, we spend no time with small talk; we go straight to "the place". When we get there, he turns around and looks at me. We are far away from the Province's Capital. I don't even know whether we're still in the Province.

I survey the scene: a two-person swing-set. How had it survived the war? It must have been far enough from the nearest city that it was spared by the bombs. The bombs were said to have hit almost every inch of the world, every member of life, save the few Provinces in existence.

"So what do you think?" he asks gleefully.

"I… how did you find this?" I couldn't think of any conceivable way he could have found this.

"I saw it on my way to the city."

"The Province," I correct him.

"The Province!" he mocks.

"Don't let anyone hear you mock our way."

"Don't let anyone hear you mock our way!"

"You are extremely immature."

"You are extremely immature!"

"I'm stupid." I plan to trick him.

"You're right. You are stupid!" He laughs triumphantly. "Did you really think I'd fall for that? Now look who's acting like a child!" Kurt giggles. His big smile and bright eyes light up everything; it's almost as though he is the sun we've been missing all this time. He stands up and gleefully spreads his arms out like a bird and runs around. "I'm flying!" He laughs, uninhibited by anything. He runs towards me and grabs my arm to pull me up off the ground. There are no longer any signs that he had just been crying. "Come on, you Boring Boy!"

He nods his head encouragingly, and as I allow myself to look completely ridiculous, I realize that no other person could make me do this. I run around with my arms spread, and I feel as though I can fly. In fact, I am flying. I'm soaring high above this world of hatred and fear and into a world where goodness reigns. I feel as though I'm in one of Kurt's dreams. I've never acted like this before.

Living in the city forces a boy to grow up extremely fast. I never got the chance to act like a child. My entire life has been discipline and rules; no playing, laughing or smiling allowed. I begin to spin around as I laugh for the first time in a long time. I just spin, spin, spin and spin as though the spinning can make up for all the childish fun I missed. As I come to a stop and fall to the ground completely exhausted, I look over to Kurt.

He flashes me a bright smile and offers me his hand. I grab it and let him help me stand up. He gently places my hand on his waist and keeps my other hand in his. The hand not in mine is placed on my shoulder. He begins swaying back and forth.

"What are you doing?" I ask in confusion.

"We," he pauses for effect, "are dancing." Kurt says it as though our actions make complete sense. He brings herself closer to me, slowly and calmly. _Does he do this regularly? _I ask myself.

"How do you know how to do this?"

"I'm only guessing I'm doing it right. I read about dancing in some books I had in the shelter." Talk about living a sheltered life… Kurt looks as though he's in a dream; he has also shut his eyes and put his head on my shoulder. After a while, it feels wet.

"Are you crying?"

"Yes, I'm sorry," he says as he backs away sadly and sits on the swing. I sit on the swing beside him and listen to the rhythm of the swing's groans.

"Why?" I ask, not knowing what else I can say.

"I wish things like dancing still happened. There is no happiness here. No color, no joy, no life, only killing, jealousy, hatred, lust and other terrible things. I just… this world is like hell. Pure hell. Before, a person couldn't get everything they wanted, but they could still be happy."

"How would you know that? You were only a child."

"I just know, okay! I've read many books, I've asked my parents, I've done my research. I know how the world used to be," he explains heatedly.

"That's not how I remember it," I say, matter of fact.

"That's because you're a bad guy. You've been a bad guy all along!" He gets off the swing and stands inches away from me. "You're nothing but a pathetic boy with no self confidence who has to boss other people around to make himself feel superior. You kill other people so you don't have to feel anything; rather than hurting yourself, you kill others so you can feel numb!" he finishes passionately.

"That was a great psychology lesson. Thank you," I say slowly, my words dripping with sarcasm.

"I wish I'd known you're like this before…" he stops. His face flushes red, but he quickly hides his embarrassment.

"Before what?" I ask as though I'm interested.

"Before… I began to trust you." I can tell that's not what he was originally going to say.

"Nice recovery," I say and his face flushes again. I can tell he is amazingly angry, which only makes me want to infuriate him more. "So what was that about _me_ being pathetic? How about the whining baby? How about you? Instead of toughening up and dealing with the world, you complain. You try to ignore it through childish games, but then it comes back and you break down. When I go into the Province and smell the acrid scent of decaying bodies, I think of opportunity. You think of death, hate and despair. You tell me that I have issues, but how about you?" By the end of this speech I am standing above him, staring into the eyes of a weak child. He tries to meet my glare, but soon looks away.

"You are just a bully!" he accuses, and begins to walk away angrily. It seems as though this is becoming a pattern.

* * *

><p>"Are you okay, honey?" his mother asked as he walked into the quarters. Kurt had stomped in and sighed loudly, subtly hinting his bad mood to his parents.<p>

"I'm fine," he grumbled and sat down in the corner farthest from his parents. They gave each other knowing looks and proceeded to try to make him feel better.

"What's wrong?" asked his father.

"Is it that handsome boy?" asked his mother. His two parents were completely oblivious to the world around them.

"Yes," he stated grudgingly.

"To which question?" his dad asked, attempting to lighten the situation with humor. It did not work.

"To both of them, dear," his mother explained. "What did he do?"

"Mom, he's one of the bad guys!" Kurt couldn't help but tell his almost-mom.

"The bad guys?" she asked for clarification.

"He's not a prince."

"Did you expect him to be?"

"Kinda…" he admitted.

"Why?"

"I don't know. He played with Finn before the war."

"Don't you ever say that name again! I told you you're not allowed to speak about him." His father screamed. Finn was still a sore spot in the family's history.

"But Dad!" Kurt snapped back. "He was my brother."

"No he wasn't. He left us and now he's dead. He was not my son." The room had gone cold and Kurt's mother had backed away from her husband; he had always had fits of rage, but never any as bad as the ones provoked by the thought of Finn. He stood up fiercely.

"Well, I still love him, Father, even if you don't. Finn was right! You are weak and scared and you take it out on us!" The second he uttered the last word, his father smacked him across the face.

"He betrayed us and if you will, too, then I suggest you leave right this second." Kurt and his father were both breathing heavily, while his stepmother looked away from both of them. Both of his parents were weak and he had become just like them. He couldn't stand the thought, so he ran out of the quarters in search of Blaine. He slammed into him and embraced him.


	7. Chapter 7

**Okay, so there will be one more post after this if we go with the original ending. It's a sad ending where they don't end up together. But if you want them to end up together, then I can write a new ending. Let me know which one you want. Enjoy :) **

* * *

><p>-Blaine-<p>

He is back in the sad mood he's always in around me. The childish antics are gone now. I can feel his hair on my face and his arms circle around my neck. Without thinking, my arms circle around his waist. He is really soft, all of him.

"What's wrong?" I ask, not because I care, but because I can.

"I… nothing," he mumbles softly. The energy has drained from both of us, and now stillness consumes us.

"No, tell me!" I demand. I try to read his thoughts, but this time I cannot. Slowly he looks at me and brings his hand to my cheek. I feel embarrassed, uncomfortable and… great at the same time. He closes his eyes and begins to bring his face to mine. It's getting nearer and nearer.

Time stops. He is frozen where he is, and I cannot figure out what to do about this situation. What do I do? _Are you an idiot? Get away from him!_ I think. _He's a child! He's five years younger than you! … But he's really attractive. You'd do a better job at protecting him if you had an emotional connection to him. Get away from him this second! _

When the world begins again, I back up quickly and begin to jog anywhere but where I am.

"Hey, wait!" he cries after me, but I only speed up to a run and try to clear my head.

* * *

><p>-Kurt's Journal-<p>

How can a person _**kill**_**?**

Can a killer be redeemed?

Can a killer _**love? **_

Do they really hate?

Or is he just trying to _**hide?**_

What do you do when something is so unattainable, but you want it with all your heart?

What do you do when the unattainable is unattainable for a reason beyond your control?

What do you do when it is

_**All**_

_**Your**_

_**Fault**_

_**?**_

* * *

><p>As Blaine looked around him, all he could see was Kurt. This tiny, pathetic, whiny boy had weaseled his way into his life. He could stand the thought of what he tried to do, but he could not stand the thought that he almost let him. He almost kissed the boy. That was a total violation of everything he believed. He wasn't searching for romance, or even a one-night stand, though he had had a couple. The last thing he wanted was for a kid to get in the way of his plans<p>

Blaine planned of becoming Colonel, a position that ruled the town: Karofsky's current position. He wanted to make all the decisions. He wanted to get rid of the weak and inferior men and women. He wanted to make all citizens work to rebuild a new world. He had plans to start rebuilding, to start beginning again. Blaine had plans for true civilization, and was perfectly fine with a little blood on his hands.

He needed to get Kurt out of his head; he needed to clear his head in general. Nothing could force that recent event to leave him. It haunted him, though it was one of the least horrifying events of his life. A kiss could have been exactly what he needed at the time, but having such a thick scull, and huge ego, he would deny it.

"Damn him!" he repeated continuously. He just could not believe what had just happened. He also could not believe how childish he acted. "He's a baby! He's not even old enough to care about love!"

* * *

><p>Kurt followed him, but by the time he got back to the disgusting remains of the city he was no where to be found. He walked slowly to his quarters feeling dejected, alone and curious of what Blaine was thinking. He opened the door, walked into the tiny broken cube and plopped down onto the ground. He lay down and stared at the ceiling.<p>

Thoughts of Blaine and his dream swirled through his head in a mass of confusion. _Why had I tried to do that? Do I even like him that way? _He asked herself. He could not figure out his inspiration for that action. He just felt the moment happen and went for it, though it was certainly inappropriate.

He had assumed that life above the earth's surface would be much simpler and more enjoyable, but he had proved his own theory wrong. He had just complicated the most important thing in his life. Blaine was his life line in the city full of death and hate. He was an angel sent to Kurt by his brother for protection, and he had just ruined it completely.

The door suddenly squeaked open and hope filled her to the top.

"Blaine?" he asked excitedly as he sat up. His heat sank and began beating rapidly as he saw a dark man covering everything on his face but a malicious and devious grin. He laughed as Kurt stood up and backed into the wall, completely terrified. He slowly walked toward him as he took of his hood. He saw a man around the age of 40, with stubble on his face, and cruel eyes.

He put his arms on either side of Kurt's head, restricting him from escaping. He put his right hand on his cheek and leaned so close to him that he could feel the man's putrid breath on his face. The man studied his facial features and looked his body up and down.

"'ow are ya honey?" he asked with an unfamiliar accent and a toothy, creepy grin. Kurt gulped down some air and tried not to focus on where his hand traveled. "16 or 17?"

"What are you going to do to me?" he barely managed to croak out.

"You 'ill see," he pronounced "see" as "say". He then proceeded to smash his lips against Kurt's roughly and enjoy it. Kurt tried to scream and tried to get him away, but the man slapped him and continued.

When the man was finished, he smiled and walked happily to the door.

"We should do this again sometime," he said with an evil laugh. Kurt lay on the ground crying, bruised and defeated. He hurt everywhere and couldn't focus on anything but the pain ripping through his body, veins, blood, heart and soul.

* * *

><p>-Kurt's Journal-<p>

You don't know what it's like

Lying on the ground

In pain

My heart hurts

It was supposed to happen with the man I

**Love…**

But when someone stands above you

Reeking of

S U P R E M E C Y

What are you to do?

To fight and be hurt? Or…

Submit

To his _desires_?

You're like a dog; nothing more.

It seems as though he'll let you go

_**But **_

He changes his mind

And keeps you on the

L

E

A

S

H

You are his now.

* * *

><p>-Blaine-<p>

I feel bad for leaving him like that. I'm supposed to protect him, not break his heart and leave him to fend for himself. No matter. As he said, he's not a child, he can protect himself. Mixed emotions circle through my body, and for some unexplained reason, I still feel as though something bad has happened. Suddenly, I see a figure coming towards me. I don't want to admit it to myself, but I really hope it is Kurt. Karofsky runs up to me, grinning madly.

"Guess 'at I just did," he giggles childishly.

"Jeez, Karofsky, you act more like a kid than I do and I'm at least 20 years younger than you." I laugh at the foolishness of it all.

"I just got wit a young, hot boy!" I smile in response.

"Nice," I drag the word out for emphasis. It is usual for men to rape other men; it's not purely for enjoyment, in fact, it's mostly to show dominance.

"I know! I'll show ya 'ere he lives." He begins to run in the direction of Kurt's house. Suspicions arise in my head, but I quickly push them away. "Yeah, it was awes'me." We continue heading towards his direction and I stop.

"What did this boy look like?"

"Slim, perfectly sized," he licks his lips and continues, "brown hair, blue eyes, thin pink lips, very pale skin." It is a perfect description of Kurt. My heart drops. What did he do? He couldn't have…. I should have been with him. Finn told me to protect him! I can't give away that I know Kurt. He'll treat him even harder if he knows that I care.

"Sounds like he's really ugly…" I lie, staring directly at his face, so as not to allow him to realize my fib. He does not seem suspicious at all.

"He really ain't all that uglay!" He gives me a toothy grin. "Just a lil'." He runs the short distance to his quarters and throws open the door. I follow him, dreading every second and every step. "'Ello! I'm home!" I can hear Kurt squeal in fright. I run into the quarters and he's already on his way to him.

"Blaine!" he yells and limps to me. Karofsky turns around slowly with a half grin spread across his face. His eyes are filled with glee, for he has already devised a new plan. The dots are connecting in his mind, and a new game is about to begin.

"You know 'is slut?" He laughs at Kurt, currently cowering behind me. My cover is blown. I need to go on the offensive now. The defensive isn't safe.

"I can't believe you would do that to him. You're terrible." I spit.

"Like you 'aven't thought about i'. Don't be so self-righteous!"

"I'm surprised you know what that means." I retort, only agitating him.

"Now move outta ma way an' let me see the beaut." He walks toward me, clearly trying to intimidate me, and make me angry; he's hoping to make me angry so I think of nothing but my anger, making me susceptible to any of his plans. I know everything he knows, for he taught me what I know. This situation is way too complicated.

"If you touch a single hair on his head, I will kill you," I try to threaten him, but he just laughs again. He has an air of superiority.

"Wha' is he? Your boyfriend?"

"No!" I answer too quickly."

"Oh, I see. I go' it. You love 'im!" He makes fun of me.

"No, I don't!" I pleasure him by responding.

"Oh, yeah ya do!" Instead of responding again, I lunge towards him and punch him right across his face. He looks at me, wincing in pain, and stabs his fist into my stomach. I double over, blinded by the feeling inside of me. He's laughing again. I stand up straight, bring my foot around behind his and bring it towards me again. He falls backwards, the grin wiped off his face. "You'll pay for this. Just watch wha' happens to tha' child." He laughs as he stands up. I don't dare do anything else, and he knows it. "You're both going to get something you didn't expect." He walks away, out the door, cackling to himself.

Insults pass through my head, but they are not directed at Karofsky. They're directed at myself. _You couldn't protect him. You failed. You didn't do your job. __**You failed. **_My ego cares more about the fact that I failed than what happened to Kurt. I turn to him slowly and realize that he's not wearing an appropriate amount of clothing.

"Put your clothes on," I growl. My body is immediately burning up. He looks at me sadly, but rather than remaining depressed, he makes a joke. He can't stand to be too serious.

"That's the first time anyone's ever told me that."

"Hm?" I respond.

"That's the first time anyone's ever told me to put my clothes _on._" I turn around to face the opposite wall as he says another amusing statement. "You know you enjoyed it." My face flushes; I'm lucky I'm not looking at him.

* * *

><p>"Blaine?" Kurt asked him.<p>

"What?" he replied.

"You know."

"Yeah… He told me" he said, not knowing what else he could say. Kurt limped over to him and touched his shoulder. Neither knew exactly what to say. "Okay then, bye," he said abruptly and headed to the door. He tried to exit, but something mentally prohibited him from doing so. He simply couldn't leave Kurt alone again. Not after what just happened.

"Well, why aren't you leaving?" he asked, clearly hurt.

"Because… I," he whimpered. "I…" he slid against the nearest wall and sat down. Blaine looked straight into his eyes and saw pain so great he couldn't have imagined it if he tried. He looked into the pain of a boy who lost his home, brother, innocence, and the world he used to know and love. He looked into his eyes and saw nothing; his eyes were perfectly smooth stones, not weathered by emotion.

"I'm really tired," he finished his pathetic attempt at trying to figure out exactly what it was he was trying to say. The silence between them hung heavily, beginning to choke them.

"Oh, okay," Kurt whispered softly. They both stared at something within the quarters, other than each other. Time passed slowly as each one tried to probe the other's mind. Silence echoed throughout the room, slowly twisting and twirling, proud that it had yet to be broken. Blaine and Kurt were both extremely uneasy, and neither could think of a single thing to say that wouldn't offend the other. Blaine tried to search through all the emotions he was feeling for the first time to see just how he felt about Kurt. Kurt tried to figure out how to figure Blaine out. Tension built up until it exploded into boredom. Gun shots were suddenly heard from outside the quarters; one for each of the two bodies.

"I've got to see what's going on," Blaine said urgently. He opened the door, walked out, and was greeted with the dead bodies of Kurt's parents. Both were hit right in the forehead.

"They tried to fight back." Karofsky laughed viciously. "The man even tried to protect the women. How romantic." Kurt peeked over his shoulder, shrieked, and fell dramatically to the ground.

* * *

><p>-Raina's Journal-<p>

I am all

ALONE

In the world.

No one

Is here for me.

I am

ALONE

In a corrupt world.

Where

Power

Is everything.

The

Powerful

Can do anything.

The

Powerful

Can leave you completely

ALONE

They will take everything and give nothing until you're

ALONE

Like me.

No one will save me from being

ALONE

-Blaine-

* * *

><p>"I told you," Karofsky sneers. "He's next."<p>

"No!" I yell and shield Kurt with my body. The protective instincts I didn't even know I had kick into full gear. He laughs maniacally.

"He just…" Kurt murmers quietly, hands gripping my pant legs with fear.

"You can't hurt him. If you hurt him, I'll kill you," I threaten, already envisioning his complete and utter demise.

"No need, I won't be hurting the boy." I feel Kurt loosen his grip in confusion. I calculate the risk of asking him for clarification; he will have the upper hand.

"What do you mean?" I grit my teeth.

"_I _won't be hurting him. He's going to be killed as an example in the courtyard."

"What?" I scream. My composure is shattered. I've obviously figured out how I feel towards him. Well, at least I know I care.

"And you want to know who will be shooting him?" Kurt is hiding back in the quarters and I refuse to give him the satisfaction of responding. He waits a few seconds, then continues to listen to himself talk. "No? Okay, then. I guess you'll find out in an hour."

"An hour? I hate you!" I spit at him in absolute fury. He loves the fact that I'm so upset about his. I'm just another one of his victims.

"Yes. Bring your gun. You're going to need it." As he walks away, I am left totally confused. I have absolutely no clue what is going on. I turn over to look at Kurt, and he already looks dead. All the color has drained from his face, and he's leaning against a wall for support. Neither of us know what to do now.

* * *

><p>Blaine looked at Kurt as Karofsky walked away laughing. He ran into Blaine's arms, and he put them around the boy for protection and security.<p>

"I'm so scared," he said quietly.

"I know," Blaine said in monotone. His mind was just registering exactly what Karofsky had just said.

"What am I going to do?

"I don't know."

"What's going to happen to me?"

"I don't know."

"Why don't you know?" he asked, irritated. Blaine let go of him.

"I don't know! Okay?" They looked at each other, yet again in a fight.

"Why do you always have to fight me?" Kurt yelled. His eyebrows raised and cheeks flushed, he looked stunning to Blaine. All the emotions came flooding back, and because he was not used to them, they consumed him. He could not focus on anything, the world became blurry and his body felt like it was burning.

"I'm sorry. I'm… sorry," he said, looking at the floor.

"God, Blaine. Saying sorry won't make any of this go away! Do you think saying sorry will bring my brother back? Or my parents? Or my house? Or my life? Or music? Or my soul? Saying sorry does nothing. Nothing."

"I wanted to help you," he rationalized. Kurt ran back up to him and punched him in the chest repeatedly. It didn't make him feel better like he had anticipated it would. Yelling at him and hitting him did not help him figure out what was going on, he was simply making the situation worse than it already was.

"Then do something!" he screamed as loud as he could. Blaine was unaffected.

"Okay, Kurt. I give up. What do you want me to do? What? What am I supposed to do?" His anger melted away into desperation.

"You're supposed to protect me!" Kurt whined. He didn't know how to do anything else.

As he walked out of Kurt's quarters, he said harshly, "Protect yourself."

* * *

><p>-Kurt's Journal-<p>

He walked out the door

Just left me

Alone

I'm still alone

I messed up he tried to help

I ruined it he did his best

I did it he is not at fault

And now I'm in trouble

I'm. so. Scared.

And he's not here

"You're supposed to protect me!"

"Protect yourself."

* * *

><p>I may love you<p>

I can't believe you left

I thought you could learn to love me

But in that thinking, I was alone

I pray you may come back someday

I pray I live to see you

Then, I pray you will

Remember me, and won't regret

All of this

* * *

><p>-Blaine-<p>

I walk away from him. I walk away from his quarters. I walk away from his problems. I walk away from his life. I walk away from everything, and I continue walking until the city is out of sight. An immense weight has been lifted off my shoulders, but something feels very off.

I look all around me and even turn around in a circle. The world is so bleak. There is nothing out here. Absolutely nothing. The world has never seemed so gray. A thought of Kurt and a twinge of guilt pop up, but I quickly banish the two and continue observing my surroundings. Too bad there are no surroundings.

What has become of the world? I see why Kurt misses home so much. I banish the thought of him, yet again. Cities used to be magnificent and tall. Full of entrepreneurship, ideas, technology, beauty, progress. And now there are only ruins of what once was. Ruins of the symbol of humanity. Ruins of greatness.

It's funny how terrible the world can be. It's funny how ironic life is. It's funny how only the thought of a woman can start a war. It's terrible how terrible the world is.

The world was terrible before now. The beautiful world of steel, mechanics, and weaponry was terrible; though it had the heat of industry, the urge to create bigger and better, and the yearn to be the top competitor. Corruption lay underneath the gilded layer of greatness covering the earth with the false glow of prosperity. Darkness erupted into war and now reigns over everything. But now that I am amid it rather than controlling it, I see that darkness is not a friend.

Music is gone. Along with joy and hope and dance, music has fled the world. I understand why, and I so wish I could join them wherever they are. I used to revel in the silence pierced by the occasional cry of anguish, but now I long to hear graceful notes float about the air. That will never happen.

Rage, murder, schedule, commands and the will to obey clouded my mind. I could not see just what was happening. My demise is imminent and I can do nothing to stop or slow it. My will to fight back is completely gone. I no longer wish to remain on this earth until my will has been accomplished, for my will is no longer my will. I no longer want to die in battle, for I would be battling on the side of darkness. And though I would be fighting for it, it, itself, would kill me. It had me in its slim fingers topped with claws, never ready to loosen its grip. But somehow, I have left its influence; I have left the world that wouldn't leave me and now I know what I'm going to do next.

I'm going to save Kurt.

* * *

><p>Karofsky slowly walked towards his destination. It was time for another killing, though this one was personal. He had systematic killings regularly, but the killings were not in any way actually systematic. The citizens unfortunate enough to cross his path were soon unable to cross anything ever again. The town belonged to him; he was its ruler, its king, and he held all the power.<p>

He made the people believe that there was an omnipotent being controlling fate; a being that decided who lived and who didn't. The Powerful did not exist. It was an intelligently fabricated lie made up of the surviving generals from the war. A secret society made up of the toughest, the most elite. Each one was given a Province to be the ruler of. The Powerful was made for people to fear; no one would fear a single person, nor would a single person succeed in ruling.

Colonel was the official title for every single one. The particular Colonel in this situation, Karofsky, was no different than any other: power-hungry, crazed, selfish, arrogant, handsome, regal, strong, intelligent, and yet insane. None of them had a reason to be a killer; it simply came easily to them. One could assume that they had bad childhoods or were traumatized in the war, but could never find out if he/she was right. No one knew that there were multiple Colonels either.

The Provinces traded with one another, but the food or products traded had often been tampered with. The Colonels were all part of one group, but each person constantly fought against all other people. The Provinces were constantly on the verge of war, but war would break the façade, so it never happened. The world everyone lived in was a lie made by a league of mentally insane geniuses.

* * *

><p>-Kurt's Journal-<p>

Judgment day is coming

For you, for me, for him

Judgment day is coming

The future's looking dim

Stay by the street lights

Don't venture in the dark

Stay by the street lights

Or death will leave its mark

Check over your shoulder

To see if someone's come

Check over your shoulder

To see your future's sum

Don't turn away from it

For you will need that help

Don't turn away from it

Without you'll have to yelp

Be careful what you do or say

Somebody just might see you

Be careful what you do or say

Or you'll end in hell, too

* * *

><p>With a sudden burst of energy and urgency Blaine ran towards the city; he ran towards what he hoped would be his future. He ran toward a boy who would bring with him a domestic life. He ran to the courtyard where he saw that very boy standing in the middle, surrounded by guards. Civilians watched from the perimeters.<p>

"Kurt!" he yelled, and the younger boy turned around, eyes lighting up. He ran to him, through the civilians and through the guards. When he reached Kurt, they stood and stared at each other; neither knew what to say. He stepped towards him, and they embraced. Kurt again felt so safe in his strong, muscular arms. Their bodies fit perfectly together.

"Well, isn't this just touching!" Karofsky giggled gleefully in mockery. Kurt's body froze as Blaine let go of him. He grabbed his gun and quickly turned around to aim it at Karofsky's head. "What are you going to do? Shoot me?" he laughed again, genuinely amused by the situation. "With all these people watching?"

"I kill all the time." Kurt cringed at the thought of murder. "You're no different," Blaine spat. The words came out of his mouth with conviction, but they were still empty. Karofsky knew Blaine wouldn't actually shoot him; that would interrupt life as he knew it.

"That's why you're perfect for this job." Blaine knew not of Karofsky's deranged plan for revenge. Karofsky walked to them slowly and yanked Kurt away from Blaine roughly.

"Don't you dare-" Blaine was interrupted.

"Shut up!" Kurt was visibly shaking with fear as Colonel ran his hand through his hair and smelled it. "You are so pretty, little boy. This is such a shame." He brought Kurt to the wall of a building in the courtyard, decorated with chains and hand cuffs. He slipped the kid's hands into the cuffs and wrapped the chain around his ankles. Blaine was being held back by two guards, towering over him, restricting his every movement. He fought back as much as possible, but he could not free himself from their grip.

"Blaine!" Kurt shrieked from his restricted spot. His face was pale- even more so than usual, his body trembling, and perspiration glistened on his face. Kurt's fear was completely obvious and he couldn't focus on anything. His heart sped up dangerously, his vision blurred from tears, he felt dizzy; he felt like he was going to die before he was killed. Thoughts spun around his head, but none were coherent enough to voice. The only clear word was "Blaine!" He could not remember what that meant or why it was significant. He knew nothing of the word, save that it was familiar.

"Kurt!" Blaine yelled back, but Kurt did not recognize his own name. His body began to shut down.

"Let him go," Karofsky demanded. The guards let Blaine go, and he scrambled towards Kurt. "Stop or I'll shoot you." Blaine stopped. He was breathing heavily and felt the need to stop Kurt's panic. "Pull out your gun," Karofsky barked. He did as he was told without looking at the beast in control of him. The entire courtyard was absolutely silent. Tension and anxiety hung heavy in the air. The outcome of the situation was unknown and the people in the audience were excited for entertainment, yet upset about another death. The citizens were mostly consumed with gratefulness, for they were not the ones being executed. They were momentarily removed from their constant state of fear, instead enjoying someone else's fear. Karofsky's lips drew up in a malicious grin. With a laugh that sent chills up Blaine's back, he said, "**shoot him**."


	8. Chapter 8

**This is the last part I have before I have to start making up stuff. The original draft I have is a non-happy ending. And that just isn't gonna cut it for you guys, so I'm gonna re-write it. Sorry it's taken so long. Hope you enjoy this tiny update. **

**Do you want the non-happy ending as an alternate ending and the happy ending as the other ending? Cuz I can post both, if you want... Just let me know. :)**

* * *

><p>-Blaine-<p>

My heart stops and my brain does not comprehend the demand. He repeats it.

"Shoot him. Kill him." Karofsky's voice drips with a sick pleasure, unsettling my stomach. I look at Kurt, now completely silent and still. He is looking far into the distance, seeing something no one else can. He's not actually looking at it, or at anything. He's blocking the world from his mind; he's defending himself from hate. "Did you hear me?" Colonel Karofsky spits in fury. "I told you to shoot him!"

I look at Kurt, I study his body: his hair, his skin, his slim shape, his delicate hands and hips. I look at him, no longer the whiny boy I previously thought he was. He's a peace-maker, a person who just wants the world to be good, a singer, a truly brilliant person.

"Blaine! Obey my command." I finally hear what he says; I truly hear his words.

"No," I say slowly and quietly, yet assertively.

"What did you just s-"

"No!" I yell in complete anger. I turn to look directly at Karofsky, fire burning in my eyes. Rather than looking angry, he looks dumbfounded and insulted.

"What?"

"You heard me." I stand my ground. His composure is immediately regained, and he laughs menacingly.

"If you don't shoot him then you'll both die."

"Why are you targeting him? It's me that you want," I offer him, practically bargaining for Kurt's life.

"His death will hurt you more than yours would." He knows he is right, and he plans to win this battle, but I know how to win a war.

"I don't care about Kurt." This plan could either go my way, or could go terribly wrong. He could let him go because I don't care, or he could shoot Kurt casually, since it wouldn't be a huge deal.

"So you won't mind if I do this," he grins as he strides toward the beautiful boy. The dust around his feet flies into the air. He slides his hands up and down his body as his tongue slips easily into his delicate mouth. Kurt doesn't resist at all, but I do resist. I resist the urge to shoot him dead right this second. As he pulls away and turns to me, he has a huge grin curling his lips. Rage flies through my body, soaking my brain. I must keep the appearance that I don't care; it's the only way to save Kurt.

"No. I don't care." He looks at me suspiciously.

"Then shoot him." It's the final test. The only way to save him is to kill him. I'm helping him. He'll be saved from this monster and saved from the terror that is life. I hold my gun and point directly at his heart. Just as I am pulling the trigger, I move my gun to the left and hit Colonel Karofsky directly in the middle of his forehead. Though I, myself, have done this before, my heart sinks and I can not ignore the fact that my whole body is shaking. The future I recently hoped for I have now abandoned. It can never happen now, but at least I allowed Kurt to have a future. I cannot be with him. He cannot be out here. I will always have to live on the run, I must manipulate my way to the top, but I need to stay here and fix the world. That is no life for a boy like Kurt. That is no life for someone as pure and loving as he.


	9. Chapter 9

**Okay, final chapter. It took forever, and I know most of you probably aren't with me anymore. I didn't end up rewriting the ending because it didn't feel right. And I don't have an excuse for how long it took, so I'm sorry. **

**But, anyway, the end. :( I still don't own Glee.**

* * *

><p>-Kurt's Journal-<p>

I have found myself back underground. I was given to a man who escorted me down here. I was sent back down here alone. Rather than feeling like a jail, the bomb shelter now feels like it protects me. I am safe down here, but I am not happy. Every once in a while, I still go into that terrible state of nothing; I can't control it. I feel nothing sometimes. Other times I feel so much that it's almost like I can taste colors and hear pictures.

I question my sanity constantly. Pictures of him show up in my mind between stages of nothing. Then I question whether he actually existed, whether all the things that happened above ground were a dream or a hallucination. I, again, do not know when day changes to night, nor how long I'm awake or asleep. I do not know much.

Where is he?

What does the world look like now?

Where is he?

Has he found someone to love? Never mind, I don't want to know.

I hope he's

HaPpY

But that doesn't really mean anything.

I hope his life is

WoNdErFuL

But that doesn't mean anything either.

I hope he is all these things, but truthfully,

I **wish** he could be

HaPpY

With me. And have a

WoNdErFuL

Life with me

Where is he?

Am I insane?

No.

Did he love me?

I don't know.

Was I dreaming?

No.

He tried to shoot me.

But then saved you.

What is wrong with me?

Nothing. You loved him.

Did I?

Yes, you did.

Am I lying to myself?

No. Of course not.

Then can I tell you something?

Of course.

Shut up.

* * *

><p>-Epilogue-<p>

The cities were rebuilt. Blaine had taken Colonel Karofsky down and began to start rebuilding the world again. He was eventually able to come out of the shadows and become leader of his Province. He made a league for the destroying of the Provinces and Colonels and within a few years, the whole system had ended. Towns popped up, and the killing stopped. Families were enlarged, and the population began getting bigger and bigger. Buildings were made of the sand covering the earth. Grass and water was found under the mile of sand and dirt kicked up in the war. The world never completely grew back to its full potential, but society did. New inventions, new sciences and new ideas spread like wildfire until people were as intelligent as before the war.

Music and art began enriching the culture once again. Children's minds were filled with nursery rhymes from the moment they were born, and from then on were pounded with music, literature and art. Philosophy and psychology became popular areas of study for those with a yearning for learning, and those with the means to do it. Novels found from many years before then could be found in archives in bomb shelters not unlike Kurt's.

History had been gone from everything but the eldest of minds. Blaine, himself, passed on the history of the world until he was 109 years old. One month before his death, they had found something that would affect him greatly.

Scientists had found the bomb shelter, perfectly preserving Kurt's body and writings. He still looked young, so he couldn't have been older than 30. After letting Blaine read all of the pieces, they put them up on display in the first modern museum of history, founded by Blaine. Bodies of war heroes were preserved perfectly in the ground and he managed to identify many of them. He and the other old men were the key to history: the key to keeping the future from repeating the past. He kept one singular piece of writing: a letter addressed to him. The first few lines as well as the last few were scratched out as though Kurt had had trouble figuring out how to phrase things.

My Dearest Blaine,

My love,

Blaine,

There is so much I wish I could tell you. I wish I could tell you that though I barely knew you, I loved you. Well, I loved you as much as I could, and not necessarily in a romantic way. Though also in a romantic way. That makes no sense… I hope you will live a happy life, and accomplish all of your dreams. This sounds cheesy; I'm sorry for that.

And I'm sorry that all you knew of me was that I am a whiny brat. I'm sorry you never knew that I'm a writer. I'm sorry I never knew just who you really are. I just annoyed you, never thinking to get to know you.

I really enjoyed our time together, even though we pretty much fought the entire time. You were great to talk to. But you know what? I don't even know if you exist anymore. I try to convince myself that you did exist, but I just can't tell anymore. I really don't. If you were only my imagination, then thank you anyway for being so great.

It's just… never mind. I…don't quite know what else to say. But thank you for everything.

Sincerely,

Warmest Regards,

Love,

Kurt

* * *

><p>-Blaine-<p>

I read the letter one last time, and throw it into the fire, watching it slowly burn. I never married because of him. No other person could replace im, no one could _be __him_. I don't know whether I loved Kurt, but I could see potential for the future with him. I regret so many things. My back aches, and I have heart palpitations. I need a walker to take even a few steps, my skin feels like leather, and I no longer act like I have a stick up my butt; though with the pain down there, it almost seems like I really do. So, when it is completely ashes, and I can no longer read a single word on the page, I lie down in my bed and drift off to sleep, peacefully thinking about almost 80 years ago.

* * *

><p><strong>So there you go. Did you like it even though the ending was not happy? I hope so. KLAINE FOREVER. 3<strong>


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